


The Return

by EmrysAmbrosius



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: I promise, I'll add more as I go on, Modern Era, Please Forgive me, i don't know how to use tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-01 23:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10203209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmrysAmbrosius/pseuds/EmrysAmbrosius
Summary: The year is 2017, and King Arthur is back. He finds Merlin- who comes with a couple surprises- and tries to understand how modern day life works. But with Arthur's return came the forces of evil rising again. Will Arthur triumph over evil? Or will events play out as they did once before? This is the story of The Once and Future King.





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This is my first fanfic ever so forgive me if anything is wrong. If y'all find any grammar mistakes please tell me! I don't know exactly where this story is going to go, so I'm going to keep updating the tags and warnings and all as I update. If I can figure out how :)

No young man, no matter how great, can know his destiny. He cannot glimpse his part in the great story that is about to unfold. Like everyone, he must live and learn. For in a time of myth and a land of magic the destiny of a great kingdom rested on the shoulders of a young man. His name… Merlin.

There was water in his nose, entering his lungs and making his throat constrict. He opened his eyes and was met by the blurriness that comes with being underwater. His eyes stung as water rushed into them. He swung his arms down – when did they rise up? – and felt his body move upwards. He swung his arms again and floated upward even further. But something was holding him back. Some instinct deep in his mind was telling him that he should be moving faster than he was. His lungs were starting to burn. How long had he been underwater? He needed air now. He reached with his feet and felt loose sand beneath him. He pushed up from the ground, using all his might to reach the surface. His eyesight was starting to dim. He needed air now. 

As he made his way to the surface of the lake or river or wherever it was he had been in, memories started to make their way back to him. Memories of a time that fills him with warmth he cannot yet explain. Memories that made him smile and laugh regardless of the water that swarms into his mouth, sending him choking. Memories flooded his mind faster and faster every passing second.

“Do I know you?”

“I’m Merlin.”

“So I don’t know you.”

“No.”

“Yet you called me friend.”

“Yeah that was my mistake…. I’d never have a friend who could be such an ass.”

Memory by memory passed quicker than Arthur’s mind could keep up. Arthur? That’s your name, clotpole, his head told him. 

“I warn you, I’ve been trained to kill since birth.”

“And how long have you been training to be a prat?”

Arthur swam quicker, his vision getting even dimmer.

“I’m happy to be your servant. ‘Till the day I die.”

“There’s something about you, Merlin. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

Merlin? Who’s Merlin?

Your best friend, his brain whispered to him. 

The memories increased speed the closer he got to the surface of the water. Which was good, because Arthur’s brain surely wasn’t working by this point.

“I care a hell of a lot about that armor; I’m not going to let you mess it up.”

“I said distract them, not knock them out!” 

“There’s just no pleasing you sometimes.”

“If I don’t know where we’re going, how do I know what to pack? Will it be hot or cold? Will it be wet or dry?”

“You have to believe, Arthur. You are destined to be Albion’s greatest king. Nothing, not even this stone can stand in your way. Have faith.”

“You came back to look for me.”

“Alright, it’s true. I came back because you’re the only friend I have, and I couldn’t bear to lose you.”

It’s almost as if some magic in the water needed Arthur to have his memories before he broke the surface of the water. All of Arthur’s memories came back to him in a flash as his head crashed through the top of the water. It was almost painful, as the rest of his memories came back, too fast to process. He opened his mouth and sucked in great gulping gasps of air.

Gasping like a fish out of water, Arthur floated for a moment, finally calm. Finally at peace. He didn’t know how he got there, at the bottom of a lake, he discovered, as his eyes roamed around. On one bank of the lake Arthur saw what appeared, to him, to be an old run down church, something he recognized from his time in Camelot, when Christianity was just starting to sweep through the Five Kingdoms. 

On the other bank was a forest. But not a forest like Arthur remembered. This forest was small, and the trees were different. There were flowers too. Types of flowers that he had never seen before - not that Arthur had paid any attention to flowers during his time as Prince - and later - King of Camelot.

Arthur noticed that there was what appeared to be a walking path leading through the forest. He would use that to try and find his way back to Camelot and to civilization. He would worry about how long he’s been gone later.

Arthur started to swim toward to shore, toward the walking path, but he was stopped by a sharp, stabbing pain in his side. He looked down and saw the armor on his side was stained with dried blood. His blood. His blood that came from a wound in his side. A fatal wound, Arthur knew. He should be dead. So why wasn’t he still?

Arthur remembered. Oh God, did he remember. He remembered the Battle at Camlann. He remembered fighting Mordred and being stabbed and then killing his once-knight. He also remembered Merlin’s tearful expression as he confessed to Arthur about his secret – his magic – not long after that. Arthur remembered his behavior to Merlin after that moment. He regretted acting that way, he really did. He wishes he could somehow make it up to Merlin. 

Merlin. Arthur would need to find him, and soon. Something told Arthur that he was far away from Camelot. But that same something also told him that Merlin was close by. Arthur now had the task of finding him.

Arthur set off swimming again, ignoring the pain in his side and ignoring how his armor dragged him down. He would take it off as soon as he got to the shore.

Soon enough Arthur reached the shore and collapsed heavily on the warm sand. He panted and soaked up the warm sun beating down on his face, drying the water on him. It felt like it had been so long since he has felt the warmth of the sun on his face. Arthur took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. He unbuckled the cape from around his shoulder, unsure of how it got there. Arthur was positive that he hadn’t been wearing a cape when he… when he died. Arthur could barely even think the word. He assumed Merlin put it on him when he was buried. Arthur slowly took off the rest of his armor and piled it on the shore of the lake. Then he splashed water on his face and took a drink. He took a deep breath and turned to the forest. Without a second thought, or a glance back, Arthur plunged into the forest and started following the path.

He never noticed the young boy who stepped out from the shadow of the church.

 

“Some men are born to plough fields, some live to be great physicians, others to be great kings. Me? I was born to serve you, Arthur. And I’m proud of that. And I wouldn’t change a thing…”


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin

Arthur was lost. Really, truly, horribly lost. The forest was not the one he remembered, so he liked to think that there was no shame in his being lost. He had started on the path leading into the forest and before long, the path split and Arthur, obviously, had taken the wrong path. He had tried to back up, to find his way back to the lake and start again, but every time he did so, it looked as if the forest had rearranged itself. But that was crazy right? Arthur thought so. There was no way the forest could reorder itself. 

Unless magic is being used, the voice in his head told him. It sounded suspiciously like his father’s.

Go away, he told it. I don’t need you.

The truth of the matter was that Arthur was still wary of magic. Sure, Merlin had proved to him that not all sorcerers are bad. And yes, Merlin had apparently saved his life numerous times with the aid of magic. Merlin is still just one man. One man cannot make up for the actions of hundreds. Arthur was willing to learn about magic, to ask the Druids for help. He was willing to let Merlin show him spells and enchantments, to give him time to prove magic isn’t evil. And who knows, maybe one day he will allow magic back into Camelot. That would put a smile on Merlin’s face, Arthur thought. But that does not mean he still doesn’t have a deep distrust of magic, rooted in almost 25 years of pain and death. 

“Hey!” Arthur heard a shout from behind him. “Hey you!”

Arthur spun around with battle fast instincts. He reached for his sword but came up short when he realized it wasn’t there. Where is it and why had he not noticed it was missing before?

Arthur scanned the forest for the source of the shout. He couldn’t see anything. Or anyone. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. But no, out of the corner of his eye Arthur saw a flash of movement from behind a tree. He ran toward the person, for it was obviously a person, what else could talk, expecting to be able to easily knock it down. What Arthur did not expect however, was for the person to take off running at a sprint. Arthur took off after him. He chased the man through the forest, off the path by now, ignoring the branches that ripped his clothes and cut his hands and face. 

Soon enough Arthur began to tire, but he pushed himself on. He could not lose sight of the one thing that could lead him home. Arthur forced himself to run faster. Ahead of him, the man tripped over a tree root and Arthur used it to his advantage. He sped up even more and tackled the man as he was getting up. They both went crashing to the ground in a graceless lump. Arthur’s breath was knocked out of him. Judging by the whoosh that came from underneath him, the man had lost his breath too. 

Arthur took this time to survey the man under him. The closer he looked the more he realized the man is more like a boy. His face still holds some of the roundness of childhood, but the boy is obviously on his way to becoming a man. The boy’s eyes were closed and Arthur could already see a bruise forming on his forehead. He must have hit his head when Arthur tackled him. Arthur tried not to feel too bad. 

He rolled carefully off the boy, taking in his plain dark green shirt and his trousers, both made out a material that was foreign to Arthur. He had never seen or felt anything like it before. His shirt was not made out of silk, like Arthur’s was, and it wasn’t made of scratchy wool like the commoners. His trousers were not leather, but made of a rougher material that was blue in color. Arthur didn’t even have a guess as to what it was.   
Arthur shook the boy’s shoulder, trying to wake him. The boy was unresponsive. Arthur shook him again, this time harder and was rewarded with his eyebrows crinkling. The boy groaned and blinked up at Arthur. The boy sat up quickly and scooted away from Arthur and backed up against a tree. He must have quickly decided Arthur wasn’t a threat to him because he didn’t try to run. He just sat against the tree trunk and blinked at Arthur. Arthur blinked right back and took these few moments to study the boy quietly. 

There was something about him that Arthur couldn’t quite put his finger on. 

He had a head of light brown curly hair, much like Arthur remembered Leon’s being. He was lanky and had pale skin. Arthur noticed his eyes were two different colors, which unnerved him. One eye was blue and the other was brown. When he was a child, Arthur recalled, he remembered his nurses telling him to beware of men who had different colored eyes. Something about them being sorcerers or bringing bad luck to the kingdom.   
Arthur looked up and noticed the boy staring at him. His gaze was unsettling. “Who are you?” Arthur asked harshly.

“Don’t see why I should tell you, mate,” the boy answered. Arthur noticed his accent was very rough and throaty. He had never heard anything like that before. It took him for surprise. “Why don’t you tell me your name and maybe I’ll tell you mine,” the boy compromised. 

Arthur realized to get something out of the boy he’d have to give something first. “I’m… Arthur,” he said, careful not to give away anything that could incriminate him. “Do you know where we are?” he asked.

“I’m Ciaran, thanks for asking,” the boy muttered sarcastically. “And as to where we are, well, ain’t it obvious? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Arthur sighed. He was getting increasingly worried. “Can you give me a straight answer?” he snapped.

Ciaran put his hand to his head and pulled it away. It came away wet with blood. Ciaran looked incredulously at Arthur. “You made me bleed, mate. What the hell?”

“Stop calling me mate,” Arthur hissed. “I am not your friend.” I am your king, he added in his head. “Just show me the way to the nearest village.”

Ciaran stared. “Village?” he asked. “I don’t know about any villages, but I was only joking with you. We’re pretty close to London if it’s the Tube you’re looking for.”

Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed. “The Tube?” The unfamiliar words tasted strange in his mouth.

Ciaran opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the rustling of the trees. Arthur leapt to his feet and assumed a battle stance. He heard Ciaran stand up and wobble behind him. Arthur didn’t know what was coming, but he needed to protect the boy so he could lead him back to Camelot.   
“Ciaran!” called a girl’s voice. “Ciaran, where are you?”

The boy melted behind Arthur. “It’s just Reanna,” he muttered. Arthur turned to look at him.

There was more rustling in the trees and Arthur turned around in time to see a young girl, probably around Ciaran’s age step out of the tree line. She tripped over a tree root and fell down. Arthur, ever the gentleman, rushed forward to help her as Ciaran laughed. Arthur helped her up but she just waved him off with a muttered, “Don’t bother, I’m fine.” As she straightened, and Arthur got a good look at her, his breath was knocked out of his chest. 

She looked just like Merlin.

Alright, there are some differences, Arthur will admit. She was a girl, for starts. As much as he might’ve stated otherwise, Arthur knew Merlin was not a girl. So obviously, this girl could not be Merlin. Another, key difference was that the girl, Reanna, Ciaran called her, had striking grey eyes. Hard and calculating, as opposed to Merlin’s soft blue ones. But they had the same skin tone and cheekbones, and Reanna’s hair is as dark as Merlin’s, and falls down to her shoulders in soft messy curls. Arthur noticed she had streaks of dark red in her hair. He was unsure of how they got there and thank God - she did not seem to have Merlin’s ears. This was a good thing, if she was in any way related to Merlin, which Arthur thought was possible, given how similar they look. 

“Are you alright?” she asked Arthur. He gaped even more because her voice sounded like how Arthur remembered Hunith’s being. He must have made a face because she laughed and smirked. 

“Um… I… You….,” Arthur stuttered. “I’m fine.” He cleared his throat.

Ciaran laughed from behind him. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “A real Keating we got here.” 

Reanna laughed. “Why are you bleeding?” she asked. If she was concerned at all for her friend, then she did a good job at hiding it, Arthur thought.

“I tripped.” Ciaran waved it off.

Reanna narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, whatever,” she said. To Arthur she said, “Come on. There’s someone who wants to see you.” She turned and walked back into the wood. Ciaran huffed and followed her, muttering about bossy girls. Arthur stood for a moment, debating about whether he should follow them or not. He decided, in the end, to follow them, because, as odd as they are, they could lead him back to Camelot. And, Reanna had said someone wanted to see him. Something about her told Arthur that she meant him no harm. Ciaran on the other hand – that same something told Arthur he would have no problem with hurting the king.

“Are you coming?” Reanna’s voice called. 

“Er – yeah,” Arthur called. He scrambled to follow them through the woods. 

 

After a while of walking through the forest, Arthur, Ciaran and Reanna came to a large house in a clearing. Arthur stopped in his tracks. The house looked so… odd. That was the only word Arthur could use to describe it. There was a small stone hut at the west side of the house. Connected to it was a larger ramshackle wooden house. It looked like it was falling apart. Next to that and connected by a metal bridge was a large house that was paneled in blue wood. It reminded Arthur of some lords’ homes with how big it was. 

Reanna and Ciaran led the way to the front of the building. They led Arthur up some steps and into the house. The inside was just as odd as the outside, at least to Arthur it was. Reanna and Ciaran seemed to not take of notice of it. Of course not, Arthur told himself, it seems as like they grew up here. 

The entry was paneled in wood, the color of the trees in the forest outside of Camelot. There was a rug that was leading from the door into the main room. Arthur recognized the pattern as being from the Arabian Peninsula. He had seen similar patterns in gifts that the leaders of those kingdoms had given his father and later him. Arthur continued into the main room, following Reanna into the room as Ciaran deviated down another hallway.   
“Where are you leading me?” Arthur asked, taking in the elephant statue that stood in an alcove. 

“To your other half, of course,” Reanna answered cheekily. Arthur stared at her in confusion. 

“What?” Arthur was incredibly confused.

Reanna sighed. “Just wait. You’ll be surprised, trust me.”

They came to a door and Reanna pushed it open. She held it open for Arthur, who walked through and stopped dead in his tracks. Standing in front of a large altar-like podium was a tall, lanky man. From the back he could have been mistaken for anyone, but the man’s ears – Arthur would recognize them anywhere. 

The man was Merlin.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y’all! I’ll try to keep this short. In this chapter Arthur learns a little of the fate of Camelot after his death. I’ve taken some liberties with what happened. I’m trying to use actual history of the Arthurian legend and actual Dark Age history mixed with what I think happened. So don’t flame, please! I’m trying to make it as good as it can be. Sorry for taking a while to publish! And if any of you have ideas for me please tell so I can avoid writer’s block, which I get way too often. I’ll try to include your ideas if they’ll keep with the flow of my story. OK, I’ll stop rambling now. Read on and enjoy!

“Merlin!” Arthur exclaimed. Merlin gasped and turned around. 

“Arthur?” he whispered. “Is it you? Is this real?” His eyes filled with tears and he raised his hands to cover his mouth. In Arthur’s eyes he looked slightly pitiful and Arthur almost cried at the sight. Arthur stepped forward and pulled Merlin into a tight embrace.

“Is this real enough for you, Merlin?” he whispered into Merlin’s hair. 

Merlin gasped, “Yes,” before dissolving into a gasping, sobbing mess. Out of the corner of his eye Arthur saw Reanna leave the room. She had a small smile on her face. Arthur let his own tears come and cried silently.

After a while, Merlin raised his head. His eyes were red-rimmed and his cheeks were wet. Arthur was sure he looked the same. He pulled back and held Merlin at arm’s length. “Well, Merlin,” he said, teasing, “you’ve changed.”

And he had. Arthur remembered Merlin having short hair, but now his hair fell in a way that more closely resembled Gwaine’s. His clothing was different too. Where blues and reds and brown used to be now was black and the same blue trousers that Ciaran was wearing. Arthur still had no idea what the material was.

“I see you haven’t,” Merlin retorted. “Still as fat as you were befo…” he trailed off. His eyes filled with tears again. Arthur scrambled to console him, seeing where this was going.

“No no no,” he said. “Don’t think like that, Merlin. I’m here now. It’s not like before. I’m not going anywhere, not this time. I’m here to stay. I won’t leave you. You’re not alone.”

Merlin took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “I just can’t believe it’s you, Arthur. I’ve waited so long for you to come back, I just,” his voice broke. “I just can’t believe it’s you,” he continued raggedly. 

Arthur smiled reassuringly. “Well, it is me, and I’m not going anywhere, Merlin. You can count on that.” Merlin smiled at him and Arthur smiled back. Something Merlin said came back to him. “Wait – what do you mean you’ve waited so long? How long was I dead?”

Merlin flinched. “It doesn’t really matter, Arthur. What matters is that you’re back now.”

“Merlin…”

Merlin sighed. “You may want to sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“Fifteen hundred years.”

Arthur stopped breathing. “What?” he gasped. 

“Arthur, I’m sorry,” Merlin said. “I didn’t think it would have taken this long.”

Arthur stared. “What do you mean?” he gasped.

“Fifteen hundred years, Arthur,” Merlin stressed. “There have been so many desolate times. So many instances where I thought, ‘Now is the time. Arthur has to come back now. It’s the worst it’s ever been’ and you never showed up. When the Saxons attacked and Camelot fell, you didn’t show. When conquerors from France and Germany came to Albion centuries later you didn’t come back. The Romans attacked, you didn’t come. All these wars, famines, persecutions…. Each time worse than the last and you didn’t come back. World War I, World War II; millions killed in a mass genocide. How could it get worse than that? And now you’re back and I’m scared, Arthur. I’m scared because how much worse will it get than it has before?” Merlin finished his speech.

Arthur was flabbergasted. Camelot fell? When? How? And how long after he died? And what does Merlin mean about wars and persecutions? Where have the standards he instilled in his people gone? Does humanity not have any decency left? 

“How did Camelot fall? What of Guinevere?” Arthur needed to know and prepared himself for the worst. 

“Arthur…” Merlin sounded apprehensive.

“Tell me, Merlin,” he said. “I need to know.”

Merlin sighed. “Guinevere was the last Pendragon ruler of Camelot.”

Arthur was scared to ask. “Did she not remarry? Did she die childless?”

Merlin shook his head. “No, she did not remarry, but Arthur she didn’t die childless.”  
“What do you mean?”  
Merlin blushed. “I’m assuming – correct me if I’m wrong – that you and Gwen, um, shared a bed before the battle?”

Arthur blushed as well. He and Merlin had talked of this act before, of course, as young men are wont to do. But he had never discussed his… intimate life with Merlin concerning Gwen. Arthur knew that Merlin knew he and Gwen had done it before. After all, Merlin was responsible for stripping the bed the next day. But Arthur had never said anything and Merlin had never asked. 

He cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said shortly.

“Well, that night,” Merlin hurried on, “Gwen became pregnant. It was months after you died that she even began to suspect. She didn’t have to worry about marrying now that she had an heir on the way, provided the child survived. And there was no doubt to the people that this child was yours, not after he was born.”

Arthur took a step back. “A son?” he asked roughly. “I had a son?”

Merlin smiled gently. “Yes, Arthur,” he said quietly. “And quite a strapping young lad he was, or so I heard.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed. “You heard? Were you not there?”

Merlin’s eyes widened. “I was,” he rushed to say, “but not for long. I helped Gwen throughout her pregnancy. It was a hard one – and I used my magic to help her. Gaius told her of my magic when he got back to Camelot, but I think she knew even before that. Anyway, she got really sick about halfway through and I saved her and the child. It was the best healing magic I’ve ever been able to do.” Merlin was rambling now. Arthur knew he was nervous. He had to get the warlock back on track.

“You said you weren’t there, Merlin,” Arthur reminded him. “Why not?”

Merlin hesitated before continuing where he left off. Arthur rolled his eyes internally. “I stayed for the rest of her pregnancy and for a few years after too. I was there when she gave birth, Arthur because Gaius was too old himself to attend. Arthur, he looked just like you. Especially in the years following his birth. He had your hair and nose and Gwen’s eyes and he acted just like you. The people fell in love with him. And Arthur, you would’ve been so proud.”

Arthur felt tears rise to his eyes. “I know I would have,” he said thickly. “But that doesn’t explain why you left.” And if he put a little accusation into his words who was there to judge?

“It just got too painful,” Merlin gasped. “Seeing him, seeing your boy, he reminded me too much of you and eventually I couldn’t take it. By this point Gaius had passed and Camelot had gotten herself a new physician. There was peace, Arthur, true peace. Just like you wanted. And people were prosperous and happy. But I wasn’t. So I said my goodbyes and left. I went back to Ealdor. I worked as a farmer and physician. I didn’t use magic. The people in my village were still wary of it. Two years after I got there my mother died. She had the fever. So I left and traveled. Never staying in one place for long. I would heal people, maybe talk to the Druids in the area, but my life wasn’t amounting to much. I knew where I needed to be. The very place I was trying to escape. So I went back to Camelot. I arrived with much fanfare; the villagers recognized me. Then Gwen came out and she looked the exact same, except with more gray in her hair and a few more wrinkles. It had, after all, been ten years. Then your son came out and I was amazed at how much he had grown. He was a knight now – Leon had knighted him. He was only 15 and already he was the best fighter in all of Albion. So much like you were.”

“I wish I could’ve seen him,” Arthur said wistfully. “What was his name?”

“He was called Llewellyn Arthur, after you. I had some sketches of him that artists did,” Merlin said, “but they’ve become lost in all my stuff. I’ll try and find them for you later. Anyway, I was there not even six months before the Saxons attacked. They made their way through the kingdom, taking out small villages and towns before reaching Camelot. When they attacked it was pure carnage. They had no reason for attacking. They did just because they wanted to.”

Arthur couldn’t believe it. His people were slaughtered by these animals. “What kind of people would just slaughter for the fun of it?”

Merlin looked sad. “These were horrible people Arthur, but they are not the worst that has been around. When they attacked, I used magic but there were too many of them. Percival was killed while fighting. As was Bedivere and Pedr and most of your knights. Leon and I smuggled Gwen and your son out of the citadel. We met up with some escaped knights in the forest and tried to take the kingdom back but it failed. Camelot had fallen. They tore down the citadel and burned the city. It’s just ruins now. After, Leon, Gwen, Llewellyn, me and any remaining knights and commoners we found went to the sea and sailed to France – it was then called Gaul – where we made new lives for ourselves. There were less than fifty of us and very few women and children. The women and children, Guinevere included, went to a nunnery. They stayed there until the rest of us found suitable living arrangements. We stayed in Gaul for the rest of their lives.”

“My people,” Arthur whispered. “Were they happy?”

“As happy as they could be, yes.” Arthur knew that was the best answer he was going to get. So he took it all in stride and moved on to his next question.

“How are you still alive and how did you know where to find me?” he asked. “I’m assuming you sent Ciaran and Reanna to find me?”

Merlin smirked, but his eyes were sad. “You’re smarter than you look,” he joked. “But yes, I sent them to find you.”

“Why?” Arthur was curious. “Why did you not come yourself?”

Merlin sighed. “I wanted to, Arthur, so bad. But I didn’t know exactly where you were. I knew you were back, I felt what little magic is left in the world start to congregate around this area. I knew in my heart that was you. But I kept telling myself that I was imagining things. If he hadn’t come back before why would he come back now? Then Reanna had a vision -”  
“She has magic?” Arthur interrupted.

“Yeah,” Merlin answered. “She has strong magic and she’s a seer, like Morgana was.” Arthur said nothing so Merlin continued. “She came to me in the middle of the night about two days ago, frightened and in tears. Scared the crap out of me as well,” Merlin chuckled. “When I asked her what was wrong she told me she had had a dream and that she had seen the return of Arthur. I’ve told them stories of Camelot and of you, so she knows what you look like. I was so desolate that I didn’t believe her. I sent her back to bed before even hearing the rest of her story. I couldn’t bear to. I regret that so much now.” Merlin sounded so sad Arthur couldn’t help but to comfort him.

“It’s alright, Merlin,” he said. “It doesn’t matter that you didn’t believe her then, what matters is that you believe her now.”

Merlin shrugged. “Yeah, you’re right. I need to apologize to her. I’ll do it after we finish up here. This morning I felt an increase in the magic of the world. After humans stopped believing in magic –”

“They don’t believe?” Arthur was shocked. “Why? Do they not know how important it is?”

“Arthur,” Merlin sighed, “there’s not one singular reason as to why people don’t believe in magic anymore. Too many people put their faith in science to answer all their questions, whereas we consulted magic when science wasn’t enough. What Gaius considered science was primitive compared to what we have now. Now magic is just an urban legend. Because of this, the magic of the earth is greatly diminished. For centuries, I have been the only being keeping the magic balance and it’s exhausting. Now Reanna helps ground the magic and it takes some strain off me but I hate to put her through that. It’s taxing on the body, Arthur and if not maintained properly can cause illness and extreme exhaustion and sometimes even death. It’s not something I would wish on anyone.”

“So why do it?” Arthur asked. “Why let yourself get sick? Why not just let magic run its course through the universe?”

“Because, Arthur.” Merlin sounded exasperated. “The earth is woven of strands of magic. The magic is still there, it’s just weak. Because I am magic, I have to keep the balance. So I can’t just let it run its course through the universe like you think it would be so easy to do!” Merlin’s voice had risen and he was almost shouting. 

“Alright, Merlin,” Arthur said slowly. He grabbed Merlin’s shoulders and maneuvered him into a chair by the table. “Sit down and calm yourself. You’re looking a bit pale. Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine,” Merlin muttered. “Just it’s all coming down on me. You, coming back, and Reanna’s vision and now there’s no kingdom for you and Ciaran and –” Merlin cut himself off with a gasp. He started breathing quickly and Arthur looked around for something to help him calm Merlin down but everything he saw was foreign to him. 

“Hey, Reanna? Ciaran?” he shouted. “I need some help!” 

Arthur heard footsteps approaching. Reanna stepped into the room, followed by Ciaran. Reanna took one look at Merlin and rushed forward. She dropped to her knees in front of him. “Dad?” she said. “Dad, answer me! Are you okay?”

Arthur’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to say something but Ciaran pulled on his sleeve. Arthur looked back and saw him jerk his to the door. Arthur got the hint and walked out behind the boy. Hopefully Reanna could take care of…. her father. 

Arthur could barely think of Merlin and father in the same sentence. It was almost laughable. But obviously it happened, the voice told him. 

“Mate,” Ciaran said. “Just don’t say anything,” he warned.

Arthur’s mouth opened and closed. Ciaran smirked at him. Arthur must look like a fish out of water. “What….How….Merlin’s a father?” he said loudly. Ciaran shushed him.

“Yes,” he whispered. “Didn’t you notice the similarities between them?”

“Of course,” Arthur answered. “But I didn’t want to think about it. When I died Merlin still seemed like a child. And now he has a child of his own!”

“You can’t deny that he’s good with children,” Ciaran said.

“No, I can’t,” Arthur conceded. “I remember whenever we would walk through the lower the children would stop their playing and would come hanging off him or beg him to play with them. Sometimes I’d let Merlin go, other times he would choose to stay. Later, after my father’s death, the children would drag me with them. Sometimes the knights too, if we weren’t out on patrol.”

“Aren’t children miracles?” Ciaran asked. “They’ll never cease to surprise you.”

“No, they won’t,” Arthur muttered distractedly. He was occupied by thoughts of Merlin and Reanna and thoughts of the son he never got to know.   
“We need to change your clothes,” Ciaran said. “And get you out of that armor.”

“What do you mean? Is this attire not suitable?”

“For 2017?” Ciaran laughed. “No. If you went out, you would be laughed at and probably mugged. We need to get you some regular clothes.”

“Shouldn’t we take care of Merlin?” Arthur asked.

Ciaran waved it away. “Nah, Reanna’s got him. He’ll be fine. This has happened before.” Before Arthur could ask what he meant by that, Ciaran had already turned around and started walking. Arthur reluctantly followed behind him, not quite sure he was doing the right thing. Honestly, Arthur was apprehensive about the new clothing styles. “Are you certain this is wise?” he called out to Ciaran as they climbed wooden stairs.

“Of course it is, mate!” the boy called back cheerfully.

“I’m absolutely positive I will look like a fool,” Arthur said.

“You mean more than you already do?” Ciaran retorted.

“Are you sure you’re not related to Merlin as well?” Arthur shot back. Ciaran just laughed. 

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’ll take some getting used to, but trust me; these clothes will be much more comfortable.” 

“I hope you’re right,” Arthur muttered.

“Of course I am,” Ciaran said cheekily. “I’m a genius!” Arthur didn’t care enough to give him a response.

Ciaran led Arthur into what Arthur assumed was a bedroom. There was a bed; at least Arthur thought there was. It was hard to see anything under the layers of clothing strewn about the room. Ciaran walked in and started picking random piecing up and throwing them at Arthur. 

“Ok,” he said. “Get that armor off and try this stuff on. I’m assuming you know how to dress yourself.”

Arthur growled. “You got that from Merlin,” he said tightly.

“Yeah,” Ciaran said with a smile. “I did.” 

“Whatever,” Arthur muttered. This boy was so infuriating. “Let’s just get this over with quickly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Arthur! He’s a total boy, not wanting to try on clothes! What do y’all think of the Reanna twist? Was it enough of a twist or had you already guessed? And please comment! They give me life! Hope this lives up to your expectations.


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry y'all. It was only as I went to post this chapter that I realized I had accidentally posted the previous chapter twice. So sorry. But its fixed now.
> 
> I don’t know if I like this chapter as much as the others, but I tried my best. I’ve been sick so I hope everything makes sense. I tend to not be able to English very well when sick ;) 
> 
> I don’t own Merlin. If I did, would I be writing fanfiction?

“So how did you come to live with Merlin?” Arthur asked as he pulled on a gray shirt. “And what is this material?”

“It’s cotton,” Ciaran replied from his place on a chair in the corner. “And it’s a long sad story you don’t want to hear. Put these pants on.” Ciaran threw bright red fabric at Arthur. He held it up in scrutiny. The material was red and shiny, and had black stripes on the side. 

“Why must we do this?” Arthur said as he walked behind Ciaran’s dressing screen. Ciaran had told him that people rarely use them anymore. When Arthur asked why, Ciaran just shrugged and said, “Trends change,” which really confused Arthur. Ciaran really was a riddle wrapped in a mystery.

“We need to make you look like a modern man,” Ciaran said.

Arthur pulled on the pants and felt immediately exposed. The pants were more like…. shorts are what Arthur would call them. They went down to his knees and were very loose. Arthur didn’t like them one bit. He stepped out from behind the screen. 

“But why do I need to look modern?” Ciaran didn’t bother to give him an answer. Arthur changed tactics.

“How did you and Reanna know where to find me?” he asked. “It seemed like you knew where you were going.”

Ciaran hesitated before answering. “Reanna’s a seer, Merlin told you that. She knew where to find you.”

“But you found me first,” Arthur stated.

Ciaran sighed. “Yeah, that was just a happy mistake. I was exploring an old church when I saw you come out of the lake. I didn’t know who you were so I decided to follow you. Reanna found me in the woods and told me who she thought you were. It was all her, really.” 

Arthur hmmed. “How long have her dreams… visions been happening?” he asked. 

“Only a few months. She’d have nightmares when we were children but they never amounted to anything. Merlin never suspected that her magic was incredibly strong until she set her room on fire.”

“On fire!” Arthur echoed. 

“Yeah… she was maybe five or six years old,” Ciaran said. “Not a lot of magic control.”

“It must be difficult,” Arthur mused. “Having magic as a child, especially in a world which doesn’t welcome it.”

“Do you think it was any different for Merlin when he was growing up? And other magic users?” Arthur didn’t say anything. He knew Ciaran was right. 

“That’ll be good for now,” the boy said, getting up from his perch. “Merlin probably wants to see you, explain things.”

Arthur sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Merlin does not need to explain himself to me. What he does is his own business. It’s obvious I have missed so much.”

“Suit yourself,” Ciaran said as he walked out the door. “But you’re insane if you aren’t curious, mate. I know I would be.”

“What of my armor?” Arthur called. It was just strewn about on the floor.

“Just leave it there,” Ciaran shouted. “And come on! There’s stuff I want to show you.”

Arthur sighed and hurried out the door and into the hallway. 

 

It was a week later that Merlin explained himself. Honestly Arthur wondered how he managed to wait that long. Of course Arthur was curious. How could he not be? His best friend has a child. Of course Arthur would want an explanation. But that didn’t mean he was ready for one. 

In the past week, with the help of Ciaran mainly, Arthur had learned what a refrigerator was, how to use a toilet, how to operate the shower and he learned not to talk to Reanna before she had had her morning espresso. Whatever the hell an espresso was. No one would tell Arthur. Something about not wanting him to get addicted, whatever that meant.

But what he wanted to know was the history. Since he died. History of the rise and fall of kingdoms. When kingdoms stopped appearing and this system called democracy was put in place. Not the history of Merlin’s sex life. Ew, Arthur couldn’t even think it without cringing. Not something he wants to think about.

But Merlin had other ideas.

Arthur was sitting on the couch in Merlin’s sitting room watching something on what Reanna called a television – a box that Reanna explained could show you something called a show, which is essentially a story in play form, over and over again. Reanna was making Arthur watch a show called Supernatural. Arthur understood nothing other than that the characters were brothers and the hunted ghosts and the like. Merlin had thought it would be a good way to get Arthur acquainted with the twenty first century. 

Onscreen, the brothers were fighting. Arthur was enamored with analyzing their fighting styles, even though Reanna told him their fights were choreographed. Arthur was captivated enough that when Merlin sat down next to him he started. 

“Sorry,” Merlin said. “I thought you saw me coming.”

“It’s fine,” Arthur said. “I was paying attention to the tely- tela-vision,” he searched for the right word. “The box thing,” he finished lamely. “Where’d Reanna go?” he asked as he noticed her absence. 

“She’s getting some breakfast,” Merlin replied. “Ciaran’s not up yet. Sorry for making you sleep on the couch. I know it’s uncomfortable.”

Arthur shrugged it off. “It’s not that bad.”

Merlin looked at him like he was crazy. “Arthur. I’ve slept on that couch before. I know it’s uncomfortable.” 

Arthur smiled tightly. “Really, Merlin, I’m fine. Is there something you needed?” he asked shortly. 

Merlin looked taken aback, but didn’t say anything. “I just wanted to explain about Reanna and Ciaran, Arthur.”

“If you wanted to explain so badly why are you just doing it now?” Arthur knew he was being unfair. Arthur also knew that Merlin – 

“I had to work, Arthur, you know that,” Merlin said.

Arthur sighed. “Yes, I know. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have said it like that. Explain away.” Arthur was shocked when, two days after he came back, Merlin said he had to go to work. It had never occurred to Arthur that Merlin would have a job. He had just assumed he was a hermit. Oh how wrong he was. 

Arthur was shocked Merlin had a job. He was even more shocked to know that Merlin was a doctor. And a children’s doctor at that. Merlin told Arthur he was something called a pediatric oncologist. He then explained that he worked with really sick children, because of course Arthur didn’t understand. Just like he doesn’t understand most things in this new world. And of course he isn’t bitter, not at all. Kings don’t get bitter.

“Ciaran is descended from you, Arthur.” Merlin was blunt in his statement. 

Arthur’s eyes bulged. “What?” he gasped.

“Ciaran is descended directly from your son,” Merlin explained. “For over a thousand years I kept tabs on your descendants. I knew where they were and if their line continued or not. But in about the year 1620, I lost track of them. I was serving under King Louis XIII in France, as a physician, whenever your descendant William Bradford got on a ship and sailed to the New World, which is now the country of America. It took me about 20 years to track him down. I looked in country after country. It was difficult. But I eventually found him in the New World. So I settled in the Colonies. But I always had wards set up here that would alert me in case you came back.” Merlin paused as if debating something. “I fought in the American Revolution. In an army, Arthur, aren’t you proud?” Merlin gave him a wry smile. “It was about 1875 that I lost track of your descendants again. The Civil War had ended only a decade before. The Industrial Revolution was happening and many people were coming into America. Somewhere in the midst of all that, your descendant, Julia Meyer, boarded a ship back to Europe. She settled in the small country of Northern Ireland and her family has been there since.”

“So you went to Northern Ireland?” Arthur asked.

“No,” Merlin said, “I came back here, to England. There’s not much distance between the two. I kept careful watch on her family and descendants. So when, in 2004, little Ciaran McAllister was orphaned, I decided to take him in. I already had Reanna, she was three. So I figured it wouldn’t be that hard to take care of another child. I posed as his uncle – and this is something I’m not entirely proud about – and used magic to get the certificate written in my favor.”

“That…. sounds illegal, Merlin.” Arthur raised an eyebrow in what he hoped was a Gaius-like fashion.

Merlin at least had the decency to look sheepish. “It was,” he admitted. “But I didn’t want him in foster care. It can sometimes be a bad place and I knew I could provide a better home for him. So I did.”

Arthur took this all in and shook his head. He let out a slow breath. “Good Lord, Merlin,” he said. “That’s a lot to take in.”

“Any questions?” Merlin offered.

Arthur thought. He had so many questions, about the world, about Merlin, about his life, but Arthur knew he had to prioritize. “Where’s America?” he finally asked.  
Merlin’s shoulders sagged, in relief or disappointment, Arthur did not know, but he got up off the couch and beckoned Arthur to follow him. Merlin led him down a cramped, wooden, mildewed hallway and into an office. It was furnished with a wooden desk and a few comfortable-looking chairs. There were large cabinets along the back wall, underneath a large window. It was to these cabinets that Merlin went. He sorted through one of them as Arthur went over to the window to pull back the thick, red curtain. He sneezed as dust flew up his nose. Merlin snickered from his place on the floor in front of the cabinet.

“Shut up, Merlin,” he said good-naturedly. 

“Of course, Sire,” Merlin mocked. For a moment it felt as if they were back in Camelot. For a moment it felt as if nothing had changed.

The moment was shattered when Merlin pulled a bound bundle out from the depths of the cabinet and rolled it out on his desk, pushing a bunch of graphs and calculations out of the way. He pointed to an odd-shaped mass on the paper. It was wide and long, and had many points coming off it. 

“That’s America,” Merlin told him. 

“And it’s a country?” Arthur asked to be sure.

“Yes,” Merlin replied. He pointed to a couple of small islands near a land mass that Arthur knew to be Europe. “These are the British Isles, which is where the Five Kingdoms were.”

“America is massive compared to them!” Arthur exclaimed. 

“That’s why it’s considered to be one of the most powerful, if not the most powerful, countries on Earth,” Merlin explained.

“Considered to be?” Arthur questioned. “Is it not actually?”

Merlin thought about his question. “They’re going through a change in leadership,” he said finally. “Who knows where they’ll be in four years.” 

Arthur didn’t spend a lot of time pondering over what he meant. He had hopes that he’d learn it later. He had a far more important question on his mind. “What’s for breakfast?”

Merlin chuckled as they walked to the kitchen. When they entered, Reanna was cleaning a pan in the sink, which Arthur had learned to use after a few false starts and some pranks pulled by Ciaran. Arthur went over to the refrigerator to see what looked appealing while Merlin walked over to his daughter. He gave her a hug (which she shied away from, with a protestant “Dad!”, because she’s a teenager and all).

Merlin laughed again and took the pan out of her hands. He muttered an incantation and the pan was lifted up and dried off with a golden flash of Merlin’s eyes. Arthur sucked in a silent breath. Both Merlin and Reanna had done magic in front of him before, but that didn’t stop him from being in total awe of their power. He still had issues believing that something so dangerous, something so ancient, could be used in a way that wasn’t evil; that magic could be beautiful.

Reanna looked back at him. She saw his face and her eyes hardened. Presumably, Arthur thought, because she had guessed what he was thinking. Arthur was a little unsettled by this girl. She reminded him too much of Morgana. But thankfully, she chose not to say anything to him. 

Instead she asked, “Is there anything specific you want to try? I’m going to the grocer’s later and Ciaran has asked me to pick some stuff up.”

Arthur thought. “No… nothing specific. Just some strawberries, you’ve run out. What does Ciaran need? Do I even want to know?”

Reanna smirked. “He wants every unhealthy snack I can find to give to you,” she said. “But you didn’t hear it from me.” She winked. “I’ll make sure to put strawberries on the list.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you.” 

The sound of hurried footsteps on the staircase caught Arthur’s attention. “Merlin!” Ciaran shouted. “Arthur! Come quick!” 

He, Merlin and Reanna rushed into the sitting room and nearly collided with Ciaran. His hair was rumpled and he was only half dressed. His eyes were wide and his face was red.

“Ciaran!” Reanna exclaimed. “What is it?”

“You have to come look,” Ciaran gasped. “You won’t believe it.” He turned around and raced toward the closet window. “It’s a knight!”

“A knight?” Arthur ran to the window. If a knight was coming maybe it was one of his. Maybe it was Gwaine or Percival, or even Leon. Maybe since he came back, his knights would come back too.

“Who is it?” Merlin asked. 

“I don’t know,” Arthur replied. 

“Why don’t you go outside to find out,” Reanna supplied, ever the voice of calm.

Arthur didn’t give her an answer before he rushed out the door, the others following not far behind him. It didn’t take him long to spot the solitary figure walking toward the house. Arthur saw glinting chainmail and a red cloak and he knew it was one of his knights. No one else dared to use the color red in their kingdoms. 

Arthur ran forward. He knew Merlin would not be far behind. The figure started running toward them. “Merlin!” it called out. “Arthur!” 

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks, Merlin bumping into his back and falling to the ground. Arthur didn’t spare him a glance as he stared at the knight in front of him. Merlin picked himself up and, with a cry of joy, launched himself at the knight and pulled him into a tight embrace. Arthur continued to stare.

“Who is it?” Ciaran panted as he and Reanna caught up to them. 

It took Arthur a few attempts to speak. “It’s… Lancelot,” he finally choked out. 

The knight in question raised his head from Merlin’s shoulder and looked right at Arthur, his dark brown eyes seeming to stare straight through him. 

“My Lord,” Lancelot said, as he let go of Merlin and dropped to one knee in a bow.

Arthur was too shocked to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> William Bradford was a real person. He was an Englishman who fled to The Netherlands and later to America to escape religious persecution in England in the early 1620s. He’s famous for being the governor of Plymouth for over 30 years intermittently. He’s said to have been a good and just leader. I feel like these were qualities he and Arthur shared so that’s why I chose him. Julia Meyer is a completely fictional person. I literally chose two names at random. This story takes place in England, and I’m American, so if there are any terms I don’t get right, could someone tell me so I can fix it? All I’m going off of is British TV and books.


End file.
